


Pressure Drop

by tck489



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tck489/pseuds/tck489
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The safety of restraint is sometimes necessary to calm the great mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure Drop

**Author's Note:**

> Written several years ago for the following prompt:
> 
> Holmes sleeping (in the same bed as Watson) in bondage of some kind because it relaxes him. (No sex please? Or if there is sex, make it somehow separate from the fact that being restrained makes him feel safe and chills him out enough to sleep.)
> 
> 2009 or BBC please.

Watson sighed, pulling down the daily paper he was reading to stare over the page, across the room at his companion. For the past hour Holmes had been in various stages of nodding off as he sat "working" at his desk. It was slightly troubling to Watson as the desktop he kept falling toward was covered in an assortment of unknown chemicals and concoctions. Holmes shook off the second of sleep and began to scribble at the page in front of him again.  
  
Not two minutes later, the sound of bone banging into wood lofted Watson out of his seat. Folding his newspaper, he heaved himself out of the wingback chair and slipped in behind Holmes's wooden desk chair. He placed a hand on the dazed man's shoulder.  
  
"Holmes," Watson exasperatedly spoke, "don't you think you ought to lie down?"  
  
Holmes turned his head, peering up at Watson beneath heavy eyelids, "Don't be absurd, Watson, I'm but a few calculations shy of uncovering the formula to..."  
  
Watson rolled his eyes as Holmes went off rambling about the subject of his current monograph. The whole thing was utter bull. Holmes had shown zero interest in... whatever it was he was working on... before he'd returned home from solving his last case. Admittedly, a distraction was probably warranted given the course that case had taken... and if that distraction involved Holmes mixing solutions rather than consuming them, Watson couldn't complain too much...  
  
The problem was the man was just too bloody stubborn. They'd been through this before. Once, after Holmes had received a concussion and confusedly wandered through acres of farmland for nearly two days before Lestrade and Watson had tracked down the lost detective. Another time, Holmes had followed a suspect into a massive crowd of people, only to be overwhelmed entirely by the assault on his keen senses and lose the trail. This time, he'd fallen through a rotten floorboard while searching a house and ended up stuck in a cold cellar for twelve hours before anyone noticed he was missing.  
  
Different problems, but they all lead to one larger one. Sherlock Holmes had his world shaken, if only for a short while, and needed some grounding. He needed to relax. And the stubborn idiot couldn't just admit to the known solution?  
  
Watson finally interrupted Holmes's jargon monologue, "So you won't go to bed? Not even if I tuck you in?" _Honestly_ , thought Watson, _England's greatest mind and I have to treat him as if a child_.  
  
Holmes spun around completely, leaping to his feet. Watson made a surprised "oof" sound as Holmes's quick movement threw the chair back suddenly it smacked into Watson's stomach. When Holmes spoke again his tone had changed completely, "You-you will stay with me? After you tuck me in?"  
  
Irritated, but happy that Holmes was being compliant, Watson rubbed at his stomach, "Yes, of course, my dear." He spun Holmes by the shoulders and lead him to his bedroom, "Let's get you tucked in, shall we?"

Watson groaned as his muscles ached, kneeling down on the floor beside Holmes's bed. He peered through the shadows to spy a large bag pushed deep under the bed. His nose twitching from the dust collected under the rarely used bed, Watson placed a hand on the large rear post of the bed for leverage, stretching his other arm out to grab the bag. It took a few swipes, his fingers brushing uselessly at the wrinkled leather, before he gained a hold on a rolled handle.  
  
"Have you got it yet?"  
  
Pulling out from underneath the bed, Watson almost knocked straight into Holmes, who was clearly impatiently waiting to be put to bed. At some point during Watson's struggle, he'd appeared dressed in his nightclothes, the gown hanging too loosely from his frame.  
  
Watson straightened himself out, dusting off his knees from their interaction with the floor. Holmes helped by brushing off a cobweb that had implanted itself on Watson's moustache.  
  
"You must let Mrs. Hudson clean your quarters on occasion," Watson spoke sternly at Holmes who seemed to have taken interest in the webbing now adorning his fingertips.  
  
"But what if she were to find..." Holmes trailed off and nodded at the bag Watson had procured on the floor.   
  
"Then I shall keep it locked up in my wardrobe. It will save both of us any worry." Watson's muscles still ached even though he was no longer contorting his body trying to reach the bag of necessities. Secretly, he longed to stretch out in bed next to Holmes's restrained form... though he wouldn't have minded a comforting cuddle either. That would have to wait for another occasion. Holmes needed to rest immediately and a certain set of circumstances would be required to allow him to reach that state of relaxation.  
  
Watson pulled back the bed clothes and laid the bag upon the mattress.  
  
"Hop up to bed," Watson said. He paused to unlatch the bag and looking toward Holmes he added, "I'm afraid it would be best to remove the gown."

"Is that really necessary?" Holmes asked timidly, sliding on to the bed.  
  
"Mhm," Watson mumbled, pulling out a piece of leather stripping and considering its length. He gave a tug of it and nodded to himself, content at the resistance.  
  
He turned back to Holmes and spoke, "Come now, off with it," gesturing at the nightclothes. "Without skin contact you will only rest fitfully," he warned.  
  
Holmes's tentative movements spurred Watson into action and he quickened the process, lifting the oversized shirt over Holmes's head.  
  
Holmes sat against the headboard, shivering in only his underpants and perhaps also quaking in anticipation. Watson snatched up his right hand and gave his knuckles a gentle kiss. _Dear God,_ Watson thought to himself _That is putrid_. Perhaps a bath was in order before bed, but when he lifted his head to meet Holmes's eyes and only caught drooping eyelids, he knew he had his priorities right. "Calm yourself, old boy. It's time you rest. Now, lie down like a good lad."  
  
Watson assisted him in lying down, positioning him in an ideal place on the large mattress. He laid the stripping he'd been inspecting earlier on Holmes's chest and returned to the bag of materials. With Watson preoccupied, Holmes snatched up the piece, fingering it obsessively and breathing in the comforting scent of the aged leather.  
  
"I think we'll begin with the ankles, hmm?" Watson posed the question, but didn't wait for a response before making a loop out of a belt and slipping Holmes's foot through the hole.

Watson laid Holmes's foot back down on the bed, checking that the loop had a firm hold on Holmes, but didn't restrict blood flow to the appendage. He then wrapped the strap around the lower portion of the poster, slipping one end through the buckle and fastening it.  
  
Before moving to the left ankle, Watson turned a quick eye to Holmes to take in his demeanor, gauging how much restraint would be required on this particular evening. The man's face looked much more relaxed as he lightly fingered the bonds: eyes closed, a faint sad smile. Watson laid a hand on the leg he'd just acquainted with the bed knob to feel the muscles of Holmes's calf twitching wildly; if his face were surrendering to peace, the tension in his body was on an offensive attack.  
  
 _It's the full body, then_ Watson thought sadly, picking up another piece of leather and attending to the other side of the bed. Looping around the left ankle, he bypassed the bedpost to stretch the strap back to the already restrained foot. It almost seemed a shame to force Holmes's legs together... visions of spreader bars filled Watson's head but were quickly banished. He was more a doctor at the moment than a lover.  
  
With Holmes's lower legs satisfactorily restrained to allow for the tortured man to get some rest, Watson extracted a long and wide piece of stripping from the bag. Attaching an eye on one end to a bolt under the left side of the bed, he pulled it across Holmes's thighs so it rested just below the ball sack.  
  
Holmes, who had remained rather silent throughout the process thus far, whimpered as Watson slightly lifted his buttocks to allow the strap to pass under his body. Crossing the rear diagonally, the strap was then tightened from left to right again, but falling across Holmes's sharp hip bones this time.  
  
"You're all right old man" Watson chuckled softly when he felt a tremor wrack through Holmes's body. Watson clasped Holmes's hands, unfurling the fists to take the strip he'd been left with earlier. This piece he laid across the chest, just grazing nipples. Fixing this strap to the bed frame posed a greater difficulty as it lacked the eyes of the piece he'd used on Holmes's hips, but soon enough he had Holmes quite restrained.  
  
"We're feeling better now, aren't we?" Watson gently asked, even though he saw Holmes still moving his hands and fingers around rapidly.  
  
Holmes looked up at Watson with wide eyes. "Yes. But, ah, weren't you to join me? It is much too cold here alone and... I will not sleep at all without you.."  
  
"Yes, Holmes. There remains just one last duty I must attend to before I can retire."  
  
Remaining in the bag was one more restraint, a short length of rope Watson would use around the wrists. He quieted the movement of Holmes's hands with a firm grip around one wrist and tied a tight knot, softly laying his hands down to rest on his stomach.  
  
"All done now," Watson said, leaning down to Holmes and placing a light kiss on his forehead. Watson turned off the bedside lamps and quickly stripped to his underclothes so he could slip in next to Holmes.  
  
As he lay on his back, letting his body stretch out to its full length, he gazed at Holmes through the darkness. He turned toward Holmes with one hand resting atop the bound hands, the other running slowly through Holmes's hair.  
  
Watson lay awake, playing with Holmes's hair as he waited for his breathing to slow into a steady rhythm. _What a remarkable and stupid man_ , he thought, before allowing himself to fall into the warm comfort of sleep next to Holmes and his fully relaxed form.


End file.
